A World of White
by Itsallablur
Summary: Darien's locked in the padded room....


Title: A World of White  
Author: Invision  
Rating: R (language and dark content)  
Summary: Darien's locked in the padded room. This is in Darien's POV.  
Spoilers: "Money for Nothing", "The Devil You Know", and a tiny one for "Beholder"   
  
Disclaimer: You know the drill. I don't own the "The Invisible Man" or any of the characters. I'm not making any money off of this.  
  
Quick note: Thanx to liz_z for beta-ing this. Where would my grammar be without you?   
  
  
A World of White  
  
Stage 1  
  
They've locked me in here and they won't let me out. I've been walking around in circles for about thirty minutes trying to get my thoughts straight. I remember going to the Keep to get my shot. I remember sitting down in the chair. I think I remember seeing a needle in her hand. The last thing I remember is waking up curled up in the corner of the padded room with a straight jacket on. Did I go quicksilver mad? I don't remember feeling the pain or attacking anyone. Why the hell would they lock me in here if I hadn't lost it? I want to look at my wrist, but I can't because of the jacket.   
  
Oh God, what if.....  
  
No, no, surely not. I don't think a lot of the Official. I think he's a lying bastard, but I don't think he'd do that. Would Claire? Bobby? No, he'd never let them do that. He may be a paranoid pill popper, but he watches his partner's back.   
  
If this is some sort of sick joke.... no, I don't think they'd joke around with this.   
  
I wish someone would come in and tell me what's going on. What if I hurt someone? I think I'd remember. I mean, I never remember what happens when I loose it very clearly, but I usually remember fuzzy images at least. I know I don't remember everything though. My mind probably tries to block out the worst of it.  
  
What if they ran out? They'd tell me wouldn't they? They wouldn't just leave me in here to go insane...would they?   
  
My head is killing me.  
  
  
Stage 2  
  
Claire didn't give me the counteragent. I know this because I can feel it in the back of my head. The gland's knocking; it wants out.  
  
"Time to play," it whispers. Yeah, time to become a psychopath.  
  
I also took a look at my reflection in the one-way glass. My eyes are bloodshot. Pretty soon they're going to be all red. Blood red. Just like the blood my dark side craves.   
  
I know they didn't run out of counteragent. They would have told me. I'm in here because they want to study me. Like a monkey in a cage. They probably want to get a good look at each stage of the madness, or maybe they want to develop the Stage 5 counteragent. Of course, I doubt they'd be making it for me.  
  
I scream as pain flashes through my head. I wish they knew how much this hurt. I've never felt anything like this before. It's like someone's taking a hammer and beating my skull from the inside. I wish they could feel this.   
  
I think of Arnaud with that smug grin on his face. I can only hope that since he has a gland now, he knows how it feels. I doubt it, since he was the one who created the madness, but I can dream can't I? Thinking of Arnaud makes me think of Kevin. What if he was alive? Would he have figured out a way to remove the gland? Would I be free of the Agency? I probably would've never have had anything to do with the Agency if he hadn't been killed. I wouldn't be here right now. I wonder if this is Hell?  
  
I lay on my back staring up at the white ceiling. How did I end up like this? Why is this happening to me? I know I've done some bad things in my life, but do I really deserve this? I've never done anything to them. Aside from the occasional argument I've done pretty much everything they've sent me out to do. If it weren't for me, this damned agency wouldn've been shut down a long time ago. I doubt they would've been able to catch the Chameleon without my "talents". They wouldn't have been able to get that money from Arnaud's casino without me. He has me and Hobbes to thank for saving his job and his ass from those murder charges. And this is how he repays me.   
  
I promised myself that I wasn't going to become their little lab rat, but that's exactly what I've become isn't it? An object of study. No longer a peron but a science project. That's exactly what they think of me. If they thought of me as a person there's no way they would do this to me. I'm not their most valuable agent, I'm their most valuable science project.   
  
That's all I am to them.   
  
  
Stage 3  
  
They're watching me. I can feel their eyes through the glass. They're watching me like an exhibit at a zoo. That's exactly what I feel like. An animal who's only purpose in life is to be gawked at.   
  
I've thought about trying to break the window, but that's just what they want. For me ram myself into the unbreakable glass so they can laugh. I'm not going to play their game. I'm going to sit here and stare right back at them. God I can't stand the feeling of their eyes.  
  
"Let me out of here you fat son of a bitch!" I yell. I know they're not listening, but I yell anyway. I yell until my throat is raw. There are no words to describe how angry I am. They have no right to do this. I'm a person, a fucking human being. I've never done anything to them. All those times I could have just accepted the madness and done what my dark side wanted to, but I wouldn't let it in. Look what good it's done me.   
  
Why are they doing this? I actually thought that maybe I could trust these people. At least Claire. I was starting to trust her, at least I was trying. I've always figured that her main concern was the gland because she's a scientist, but I was beginning to think that I came in at a close second. Of course, now I know I was wrong.   
  
Where's Bobby? Why isn't he here? Surely he's not helping them. No he's not, I know he's not. He must not know. I know he'd never let them do this. He's the only one I really trusted. More than that I respected him. I would've given my life for him and I know he'd do the same.   
  
So I know he's not helping them.  
  
  
Stage 4  
  
If they don't let me out of this God foresaken prison I'm going to kill myself. I'll ram my head into the wall until it kills me if I have to.   
  
If I get out of here I'm going to kill them. The Official, Claire, maybe even Eberts. I never did like him, the Official's little lap dog. Always doing whatever he was told. Pathetic.   
  
Where's my partner, my "friend"? I bet he is helping them. He probably even helped them drag me in here. Hell, he probably put the straight jacket on me. That buddy-buddy game he tried to play was just a bunch of crap. How stupid do they think I am? No matter. Like I said, I'll get them if, no, when I get out of here.  
  
I wish I could get out of this jacket. I can't stand being restrained like this. I don't even feel like I can breath. I feel like the walls are closing in on me. I feel like there's a pair of eyes staring at me from each and every angle, studying me, watching me. Funny, I was never claustrophobic before. At least the pain has stopped. I don't even have a headache anymore.   
  
Stage 5  
  
Why are they doing this? I really don't care anymore. I don't care about much of anything at the moment. The only thing I care about is pain. Not my pain, I feel no pain. I want others to feel pain. I feel an insatiable urge to hurt everyone. I don't want to kill. If I kill, what good does that do me? If they're dead they cannot feel any pain, and there's just no fun in that. I want to see their faces contort with pain. I want to feel life slip away from them. I love that feeling of power. It's like I'm God for that one moment. They all deserve it anyway.  
  
I looked at my reflection in the glass. My eyes are silver. I like them that way.   
  
I like it here. In the "madness" I mean. It's so nice, quiet, and peaceful. I can't imagine why I thought this was a bad thing. I feel so calm and relaxed.   
  
They're still watching me. Watching me with their beady little eyes. Claire is probably scribbling away in her notebook. The Official is probably making arrangements to have the gland taken out once they get all the data they need.  
  
What they don't know is that I've gotten the straight jacket unbuckled. I'm sitting in a position where they can't see it. Stupid, stupid people. Did they actually think they could keep me in here and that I wouldn't find a way out?   
  
I found a pen on the floor. Someone must have dropped if on their last visit. It's nice and pointy. Next time they come in here I'm going to grab one of them and stab them with it as many times as I can. Then I'm going to laugh. I hope it's that little bitch Claire. She always looked at me with this spark of arrogance in her eyes. She always thought she was so much better than me. We'll see about that, Claire.  
  
Is that the doorknob turning?   
  
  
  
  
~The End~  
  
  
  



End file.
